


Love Me Tender

by Miah_Arthur



Series: Vesemir Gets Freaky [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Backstory, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Other, Pegging, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content, Succubi & Incubi, Sweet, Young Vesemir, cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:29:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29672166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miah_Arthur/pseuds/Miah_Arthur
Summary: When Young Vesemir visits the venerable Crippled Cate's brothel in Novigrad, he doesn’t expect to walk into a succubus’ den.
Relationships: Vesemir (The Witcher)/Salma (The Witcher)
Series: Vesemir Gets Freaky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979416
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	Love Me Tender

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Thank you to my betas Hircine_Taoist and Maimat

#  **Love Me Tender**

Novigrad. The free city grew every year. Monsters here were human, and Vesemir did a sweep every year for boys to save. 

The witcher life was hard. The training pushed boys, and more died during the trials than boys raised by peasant families. Those weren’t the boys he took to Morgraig. He searched for boys who could only expect miserable deaths from exposure, starvation, or prolonged pain and abuse. War orphans. Abandoned on roads and in forests. Suckling babes tossed in the trash to wither… And boys like him. 

Born to a whore, Vesemir watched his mother die three days after a man beat her so badly he didn’t recognize her. He’d been expected to earn his keep after that, until a man with cat eyes came and gave him a different life. 

Brothel brats held special places in his heart, but he loved every boy he rescued. Even the ones who didn’t survive the trials, he consoled himself with knowing that they had nutritious food and companionship while training at Kaer Morhen. Even if it meant that he and others had to stand by and watch the mages put the boys through the torture of the Trial of Grasses, remembering their own turn as the one screaming and writhing in pain, they assured no witcher boy died alone.

Crippled Cate’s was the oldest brothel in Novigrad. The whores weren’t owned by the establishment. They were free to come and free to leave. Many showed up during busy hours as a supplement to a more respectable job. It was one of the reasons the place stayed open so long. Another reason for its longevity, and the only reason he visited this brothel to pay for sex, was they didn’t put children to work.

Usually he would loiter for one of the women to take interest, but this time, though, the madame—neither Cate nor crippled—took one look at him and suggested he visit the woman in the back house. It intrigued him. The madame had never led him astray before, so he followed her orders to leave his armor and swords in her personal chest before eagerly trotting to the house across the alley. 

The door swung open at his first knock, and Vesemir stepped inside. The being within stepped into view. 

Vesemir stared. He shouldn’t. This was a demon. A monster. But he gaped stared at the conical horns protruding from her head. At the white swirls contrasting with her dark skin. At the shaggy fur of her legs. 

A succubus. 

And not a young one. Powerful. Her pheromones would have overpowered a human, and even as a witcher, he felt them acutely. 

She stood, one hand resting on her canted hips, drawing his attention to how little the flimsy strip of cloth draped over her crotch covered. Her other hand lifted to her chin, bringing his gaze with it. “Hmm. Dangerous. Not yet in my thrall, and yet you _want_. Do you not?”

Vesemir nodded, too struck to speak. The thought of those legs bracketing his, the fur dancing across his skin…

“Most men are too addled to see my true appearance.”

“Can-can I touch your fur?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him before beckoning. “I’ve heard of your kind. You carry silver. You are meant to destroy the likes of me.”

It was true. He was a witcher, and yet, who better than a witcher to know that not all monsters were monstrous?

“Should I? I’ve heard no rumours of unusual deaths in the area.”

“How would you if I hid my kills as any intelligent predator should?”

Vesemir brushed his fingertips over her knee. “The madame would not tolerate you killing her customers. Bad for business.” The fur was soft and clean, and he longed to get closer. 

“Very perceptive for the mindless killers your kind are rumored to be.”

“I prefer to—”

“Fuck?” Her tone was frank. 

Vesemir’s cock twitched in his breeches. “I’ve found not everything deemed a monster is a threat.”

She moved so fast; she seemed to blink—behind him before he saw her move. Her bare breasts pressed against the thin linen shirt he wore. “You are an interesting one. A meal, yes, but the potential to become more than a lust-addled tryst. My name is Salma.” Her hand snaked into his shirt and twisted his nipple. 

“Vesemir.” His voice cracked like a teenager as he spoke. 

She sniffed at his throat. “I know what to do with you. Will you exchange some of your energy for the pleasure I offer?”

“Yes.”

“Strip.”

Vesemir pulled his shirt over his head and began unlacing his breeches. He hadn’t noticed the room before, but now he saw an enormous bed, opulent draperies, fine rugs. Salma earned well from her liaisons. He straightened from taking his boots off and spotted Salma. A harness holding a thick, curved, glass phallus replaced the loose cloth that had wrapped around her hips.

She placed a round pillow on the bed. “Lay over it on your stomach. I have exactly what you need.”

He swallowed. Could succubi read minds like mages? He lay over the pillow, his ass presented in the air, his face pressed against the bed. 

“So obedient. You need someone to take control, don’t you?” She knelt behind him, but instead of penetrating, she draped over his back, pressing kisses to his neck. “I could break your neck rather than kiss it.”

Vesemir moaned. 

“That’s what you like. Knowing I could end you.”

His hips jerked at the thought. “Yes.” 

She sat up and opened a jar. Her finger pressed into him, smearing the oil inside, checking for tension. He relaxed into it, eager for her to fuck him. 

“Practiced, hmm?”

He nodded into the pillow. Would Salma assume he wanted it rough? As a challenge to plow him into the mattress? He expected it. She wanted to feed on his lust. What better way to gain her meal than to make him come hard and fast?

But she pressed into him slowly, gently. Her fur brushed his legs, soft and tickling and warm. He braced himself for the onslaught to begin. He liked it rough, and she said she knew what he needed…

Salma’s body covered his, her breasts soft counterpoints to her smooth, taut stomach. She rolled her hips, short, slow thrusts that had the smooth, cool glass gliding across his rim. She kissed his neck and shoulders and teased her fingers through his hair. “Relax. I will take care of you.”

He'd never had a lover demand so little of him, to soothe him, and kiss him while he had to do no more than relax for her. She moved as if he was something that could bleed and bruise and it made a well he didn't know was in him rise up. He struggled against it. He'd not cried with the roughest of his partners, why should the urge strike him over Salma being kind and making him feel so good. How could such soft thrusts build so much pleasure in him?

She continued holding him, kissing him, fucking him so softly and he lost the fight to keep tears from his eyes. He pressed his face to the second pillow his chest rested on to hide his shame. Salma tugged his hair until he turned back. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. 

“Never be sorry for being unused to gentleness. Will you allow me to show you how good it can be?”

Vesemir hesitated. She was offering him a way out, but also offering something he’d never thought possible. “Please show me.”

She rewarded him by pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth and rolling her hips in that same gentle motion. She kissed him, and her taste was indescribable. _The pheromones_. She tasted of apples and sunshine, and the smell of warm bread and leather oil and every scent and flavor that brought him comfort and joy compressed into one moment of lips and tongues, and he wanted the moment to never end. She pulled away, returned to kissing and sucking at his neck, and Vesemir lay boneless beneath her, an endless wave of ecstasy crashing over him. 

His cock pulled him back to reality. Salma still lay over him, her hips never stopping. A series of sharper thrusts punched moans from him, and he felt his orgasm near, teetered on the edge, then fell back as she slowed. Pleasure built and built until he felt as though he’d burst from it. He squirmed helplessly underneath her. 

“Please…” he moaned after she slowed again. 

“Of course.” She pulled out of him, and he whined. “Roll over.”

Vesemir did as he was told, and immediately, she was on top of him, sucking at his throat, his nipples, and back up to his mouth. The ecstasy that crashed over him this time didn’t wash him away into his mind, only heightened his sensitivity. She sat up between his legs and pushed his knees toward his chest. She penetrated him in one sharp thrust, and he flung his arm out to catch the sheets. 

Her hips snapped staccato against him, forcing gasps and moans from him with each thrust. This, he was familiar with, but she returned to the sensual pace of before. He opened his eyes, watching her watching him. She reached for his cock at last and stroked it in sync with her thrusts. Her touch was gentle, reverent in a way that not even he treated himself. 

Tears filmed over his eyes at the thought, and this time, he let them fall; unashamed. 

Salma murmured encouragement and support and fucked him through the tears. Through them, to a new sense of spiritual pleasure, he’d never imagined possible. And then, at last, her thrusts and hand on his cock aligned to bring him not just to the edge of climax but plummeting over it. His come shot out over his stomach, but the orgasm hit his entire body. His stomach muscles clenched in rhythmic waves. Tingles raced up his spine. His toes curled, and his heels dug into the bed. 

Salma swiped up the mess with her hand and held it in front of his face. Without thinking, he sucked her fingers into his mouth, groaning at the sharp, salty counterpoint to the continuing waves of his orgasm. She turned him onto his side, swinging his leg around her body without pulling out, and every tiny shift of the phallus inside him set off a fresh wave. His cock tried valiantly to pump out more come, but nothing came, and only her fingers in his mouth muffled his moans to prevent passerby on the street from hearing him. 

She wrapped around him from behind, kissing and nibbling in between soothing sounds until it finally ended. She pulled out. A spark of too much jolted him. He was too exhausted to do more than twitch. The bed dipped as she got up. 

“Drink this. Water.” Salma held out a glass. 

Vesemir stared at it, not comprehending until she wrapped his fingers around the cup. 

“You’ll feel better when you awake,” she said. 

He drank the water, and then the bed dipped as Salma crawled in behind him. Her fur was soft and warm, and he pressed into it. She pulled a blanket over them and tugged him tight against her chest. The position was so like the one she’d fucked him in, but instead of titillating, it only brought a sense of comfort and safety as he drifted to sleep.


End file.
